Love Life
by RochelleRene
Summary: Somehow I got talked into writing a Huddy pregnancy fic. Sigh. Hope it works... It's a tough one. Some smut but a lot of plot.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

"Cuddy's pregnant," House told Wilson, walking into his office and sitting down. Wilson let go of his initial impulse to ignore him and stared at him across the expanse of his desk.

"Wha- uh- Is it yours?"

"Nice."

"I'm sorry, I'm just… Wow. I'm at a loss for words," Wilson admitted. "This is great! I mean, maybe. It's, like, huge. It's forever. It could be good for you. Or not. You could totally screw it up … Fuck."

"Congratulations," House replied. "You just went through every reaction I went through in about a tenth of the time."

"How's Cuddy?" Wilson asked.

"Seems okay. Hard to tell."

"Well, what did she say?"

"About being pregnant?"

"No, about pulling troops out of Afghanistan. Yes, about being pregnant!"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

House shrugged.

"Well, when did she tell you?"

"She didn't."

Wilson gave House a look of complete confusion. "Then how do you know she's pregnant?"

"She is. She has all the symptoms," House explained.

Wilson visibly relaxed. "Oh, man, House, you had me freaking out there."

"You should be freaking out! I may procreate!"

"May. Doubtful," Wilson said calmly. "She's probably not pregnant."

"She is," House asserted.

"What are these completely conclusive symptoms?" Wilson asked, skeptical.

"Exhaustion."

"Yeah, why would the Dean of Medicine who has a small child and an emotionally stunted boyfriend be exhausted?"

"Why would she suddenly be _more_ exhausted? Nothing has changed."

"What else?"

"Nausea."

"For how long?"

"Last three days."

"So, she has a stomach bug, which would also explain the exhaustion."

"Extreme nipple sensitivity!" House proclaimed, closing the case.

Wilson sighed. "Though I am aware that I am stepping into a metaphorical minefield…. Aren't nipples supposed to be sensitive?"

"They are. And hers are. And she loves when I… sensitize them." Wilson put his face in his hands. "But now, suddenly, I can't get near them. They're _too _sensitive."

Wilson peeked up from his palms. "Did it ever occur to you that you _think_ she loves when you 'sensitize' them, but maybe she's just been humoring you and is now tired of it?"

House and Wilson had a stare down.

"You've obviously never had sex with me," House answered.

"Thank God for small blessings," Wilson replied. "Maybe it's hormonal. They get more sensitive right around… you know."

"'You know?' No, right around what, Wilson?" Wilson made a weird hand gesture and an embarrassed face. House smirked. "You're a doctor, man, and you can't say period?"

"I can say it. It's just Cuddy."

"You can't refer to Cuddy's period?" Wilson's face got embarrassed again and House laughed. "Oh, this is good stuff. I can use this."

"Please, don't."

"It's like asking the wind not to blow, Wilson. The sun not to shine."

"You're missing the point!" Wilson shouted. "Maybe she has the flu and is about to get her – you know. She might not be pregnant."

"She's pregnant. I just need to get her to realize and/or admit it."

"Well, it's good you've formed this into a weird sort of game to distract yourself from processing the gravity of the situation. That bodes well."

House stopped grinning and looked at Wilson. He bit his thumbnail. "I'm freaking out."

There was a minute of silence. "I know. Just think of it as your biggest puzzle yet."

"How to not totally fuck up a child? It's unsolvable."

Wilson shrugged. "So you'll fuck it up. Maybe it'll help fix you a little more."

"You should write pro-life bumper stickers."

[H] [H] [H]

House was sitting at his desk, staring out the window and twisting a rubber band when he heard his door open. He turned in his chair to see Cuddy standing there with her coat and purse.

"I'm going home," she informed him.

He looked her up and down. "Okay."

"You coming?"

"Yeah. In a bit."

There was a beat of silence. Cuddy studied his face. "It's okay if you don't want to yet. I know you like to be alone sometimes."

_This was weird_, he concluded. She knew. But she didn't know that he knew. He narrowed his eyes at her a little. "Do _you_ want to be alone?"

"No!" she said adamantly.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"So why are you suddenly giving _me_ explicit permission to be alone?"

Cuddy shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't think you had to rush home if you didn't want to yet."

"You wanted to make sure of that today, for some reason?"

"I was being… Considerate. It won't happen again," she huffed.

"Everyone likes to be alone sometimes. It doesn't mean anything," he told her.

"I know. I didn't say that it did," she replied.

"It doesn't mean I _always_ prefer to be alone."

"I know."

"I don't."

"I know."

"Cuddy."

She sighed. "I just want you to know you have space. I'm not gonna take away your space."

"You're suddenly worried that I'm worried about that?" he pressed.

"House… I'm just… I'm-"

The door swooshed open and Wilson stepped in. He was startled to see Cuddy, having missed her standing in the far corner of the office. "Hey," he said to them both.

"Hey," they replied in unison.

"Bad time?" he asked, hopeful.

"No," Cuddy assured him. "I was just heading out." She made her way back over to the door.

"Cuddy," House called out. She looked back at him. "I'll be there soon." She nodded.

"No hurry." She walked out.

Wilson studied House. "So? What was that? Did you guys talk about it?"

"Not in a psychologically healthy way," House replied.

"Is she okay?"

"Can't tell."

"Are you okay?"

House furrowed his brow. "That's pretty woven into whether she's okay."

Wilson smiled. "That, my misanthropic friend, is progress."

[H] [H] [H]

House was in his office arguing with Foreman when a text from Cuddy came in.

_Are you busy?_

He gladly used the opportunity to text her back, showing Foreman how completely uninterested he was in what he had to say.

_Kinda, _ he replied.

_Too bad, _she wrote back. Foreman was getting more irritated with every chime of his phone and this delighted House no end.

_Ur the one who makes me have actual cases. What do u need?_ he wrote back

He held a finger up to pause Foreman's rant when the reply came. _I need you to come down to my office and fuck me on my desk. _ House blinked, shook his head a little, and reread. He was immediately excited, but then suspicious of this taboo topic.

_Plz tell me this isn't a joke…_

_It's not a joke. Please tell me you're on your way… _Still he was skeptical. She had never, ever, been even remotely open to this idea.

_It srsly hurts 2 get an erection like this only 2 b cruelly denied, C._

_I promise nothing but good things will happen to your erection. ;)_

House's mind raced, bouncing between hormonal fantasies about what was going to happen in about five minutes and logistically trying to explain it.

"Hormones!" he yelled suddenly. Foreman gave him a confused look. "Cancel the surgery. But you're wrong too. It isn't auto-immune. She's using hormone replacement therapy, for menopause."

"She didn't list that as a medication," Foreman had to yell after him because House was sprinting for the elevator.

"She's using a topical cream. People never think of that stuff as medication. Go ask her."

"Where are _you_ going?" Foreman asked as House boarded the elevator.

House grinned as the doors slid shut. "Emergency. There's a fire. I need to put it out." And Foreman was left sorting out another metaphor.

[H] [H] [H]

House walked into Cuddy's office and she stood up immediately. She looked… well, horny. Her lips were already parted and he saw a flush to her neck and cheeks. She smirked at him. "Shut the door and check the lock twice," she ordered. House obliged and then walked over to her, dropping his cane somewhere along the way so that when he got behind her desk and they faced each other, he was able to circle her waist with both hands and bring her hips against his. He looked down at her and they stood there, their breaths mingling between them.

"What's the hold up?" she teased.

"Sorry. I just have about twelve different fantasy versions of this, but in all of them you are slightly resistant," he confessed.

"Well, I'm not resistant," she informed him bossily. "I want my ass on this desk and you inside of me. The sooner the better."

House exhaled. "I can work with that."

He bent to grasp the hem of her skirt, working it slowly up her legs as it tightly hugged her curves. He felt her breath along his chin as she nuzzled his jaw. He gave a final authoritative tug and her skirt was bunched at her waist. He pulled her panties down and lifted her onto her desk. Cuddy, meanwhile, was undoing his belt and pants in an almost frenzied way. She was already moaning and rolling her hips against him. "God, House, I need you," she said, almost too loudly considering their location.

"I _will _get you that expense report, Cuddy. You don't need to raise your voice," he loudly teased as his pants dropped to the floor.

Cuddy pulled her face back and met his teasing eyes "Now!" she ordered.

House pushed against her entrance, but hesitated. "I can't get you a fake expense report," he murmured in her ear, "and fuck you simultaneously."

"Prioritize," she told him, wrapping her legs around him, her heels pushing against his ass. House slid inside of her, as ordered. Cuddy's head lolled against his shoulder like she'd just experienced the most intense relief. She hooked her arms under his and held his shoulders, hanging off of him as he moved into her again and again. He couldn't believe how she felt. He'd entered the room two minutes ago and yet she was so wet and hot and tight around him, pushing her pelvis out to meet his every thrust. He was marveling at the power of hormones when she came, completely unexpectedly to him. She was so on the edge it had taken almost nothing and she was biting his neck and letting out a high-pitch hum against his skin. He felt her muscles clenching and releasing around him and moaned at the ceiling. Cuddy leaned back, unbuttoning her top. Her breasts were perfect soft mounds emerging from the silky fabric, but - House noted - spilling out over the top of her bra. If he wasn't convinced before, an immediate orgasm and sudden D cup was sealing the deal. He was processing all of this until Cuddy shut his brain off completely. She sprawled back across the desk, propping herself on her hands, looking at him completely unsated despite her release. "If you stop fucking me before I tell you to, you're fired," she informed him her eyes hooded by half-closed lids.

Being ordered to continuously fuck Cuddy… Well, that's the reason he took this job, for Christ's sake.

His hands slid up her thighs, taut beneath her stockings, and around to her ass, which he pulled even closer to the edge of the desk. He leaned over her and propped himself on his arms, his face nuzzling at the pillowy meeting of her breasts. He kissed the flesh that rose out of her bra, kissed her chest, ran his tongue along her collarbone, all the while entering her as deeply as he could, only to begrudgingly exit in order to have the sensation again. Cuddy was so overcome she eventually just lay back flat on the desk. Her free hand now pulled her bra down and House needed no further invitation, his lips closing around her nipple. He flicked his tongue along her and she pushed his head away, moaning but unable to stand it. So he kissed the general vicinity. Then he heard the cry rising up in her throat the very moment it began. He clamped a hand over her mouth, for fear she'd embarrass herself far more than intended in a hormonal mania. This seemed to just turn her on more and he saw her eyes widen for a moment, clench shut, then open again to just watch him kissing her breasts with abandon. Their eyes met and he closed his, powerless to resist basking in the pleasure of her sex all around him, her body sliding along his, her breasts in his mouth. When his lids slid shut and he sighed he felt her teeth again, grazing his palm, then her mouth opening wide as she groaned into his hand, her back arching to get him into her more, then her legs weaving back and over his shoulders to get him still deeper. She moaned with every rapid exhale, so it almost sounded like crying, but her body shuddered around and under him in a way that was purely sexual. He couldn't believe he was holding out, but he was both fascinated and under orders. He slowed his movements a little, pushing into her more gently as her shaking body recovered.

"That's not fucking," she chided with a breathless voice.

"Cuddy, you _know_ what this is," he started to tease her, through his own gasping breaths. "Should we talk about this?"

She sat up, pushing against his chest to force him into a stand too. "Talking is not fucking," she answered. She pushed him down to sit in her chair and promptly straddled him, guiding him inside of her again. _Okay, if she doesn't want to talk about it, fine by me_, he thought as she threw her head back and began riding him, her breasts bouncing against his face. So instead he said, "Damn, Cuddy, you are so hot," and she pulled at his hair and rode him harder.

"I wanna make you come," she told him, again almost too loudly. He was trying to think of something to say to cover her indiscretion, when she continued. "Just thinking about making you come makes me almost come." Jesus, he couldn't even stay in any sort of logical mindset with her acting like this, talking like this. He had never even paid for sex like this before.

"I…mmhmm… God, Cuddy…. I…" he couldn't think, couldn't talk, couldn't resist much longer.

"You can stop, House," she told him, grabbing his face in her hands and looking deeply into his eyes. "I'll just fuck _you _now." She smiled and pushed down on him so perfectly, and he inhaled sharply. She rose and slid down on him again and he groaned. Again, and he clenched his eyes shut, his fingers digging into her hips. She let out a small whimper and slid down his length once more and it was all over and he was gone, floating somewhere with rapidly zig-zagging stars that elicited the most ecstatic feeling of release. At the sensation of his orgasm Cuddy came again, calling his name softly into the air and sliding her fingers down his chest. She continued grinding down on him, but more and more slowly, until they sat in a half-dressed sweaty heap on her chair, gasping and sighing and already replaying the whole mind-blowing thing in their minds.

"Do you wanna go out to lunch?" she muttered again his shirt. "I want pizza."

"_You_ want _pizza,_" he repeated, and she nodded against his chest. "Cuddy, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Nope," she replied.

"Nothing is weird about the last fifteen minutes and you wanting food you never eat?"

"Sex and pizza. You complaining?" she asked.

"No," he said, pulling her close. "I'm not gonna complain," he told her in code, sliding a hand up the back of her shirt to feel her skin. "About anything."

[H] [H] [H]

Rachel went to play and Cuddy stood at the sink, rinsing dishes. "Cuddy, how long are we going to avoid this?" he finally asked.

"Avoid what?" she asked, feigning confusion.

House walked over to his coat to retrieve the pregnancy test he'd stolen from the hospital that day. He slammed it on the counter like a dare. Cuddy looked at it, then at him. She said nothing.

"You're inexplicably exhausted," he began.

"I'm working hard! And I have a kid and," she gestured at him, "another kid."

"Your boobs are booby trapped."

"It's hormonal," she said. House raised his eyebrows. "But not _that_ kind of hormonal."

"Cuddy, this level of denial… It's Housian."

They stared at each other.

"We're not ready for this, House."

House grinned. "Twenty years, an infarction, addiction, rehab, adoption, making up, breaking up, and several near-death experiences… Cuddy, we're ready for anything."

Cuddy smiled weakly back at him. Then she puked in the sink.

House walked over and rubbed her back gently as she heaved again. He turned on the water and Cuddy splashed her face and drank from her cupped hands. She took a few deep breaths, still bent over the sink, then stood up. "Gimme the damn test."

She walked into the small bathroom off the kitchen, peed on the stick, and reemerged, setting the stove timer for 5 minutes. She leaned against the counter and stared at House, seated in a kitchen chair. He reached an arm out to her and when she took his hand he pulled her onto his lap. Cuddy finally broke the silence.

"What are you hoping for right now?"

House shrugged. "Doesn't change the outcome," he reminded her, ever-practical.

"It affects what I'm hoping for," she told him.

House laid his forehead against her chest. "I don't know, Cuddy. I have to just see the results and react from there. I don't work in hypotheticals."

"You must have some feeling right now. Some way you want it to go."

He looked up at her. "What do you want me to want?" he asked.

She gave a half-hearted grin. "What I want."

"Which is?"

"I don't know," she laughed.

The timer beeped. They grinned at each other.

"I can't do it. You do it," she told him, standing up. House chuckled and limped into the bathroom.

"Where's the box, Cuddy? I don't know what I'm looking for," he said, walking out carrying the test and moving to the box she'd left on the counter. Cuddy could see from there that the second line was present, bright, unmistakable. She watched him.

He looked at the box, looked at the test, blinked, and looked up at her. His eyes were wide, searching hers. She silently pleaded with him to say the right thing, to not taint this from the start with his… way.

House swallowed hard. "Do you wanna have a baby with me?" he asked. "Because I think it could be interesting to see if I can love another person as crazily as I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"When a man and a woman love each other very very much," Cuddy was explaining when Rachel asked her where babies come from, "They can share this very very special hug that helps them make a baby." House snorted as he poured his cereal and listened with glee as Cuddy further embarrassed herself. He dug into her as soon as Rachel left the room.

"A special hug?" he asked, smirking despite a mouthful of Froot Loops.

"What did you want me to say?" Cuddy hissed. "That it happens when a guy is pulling your hair and humping you from behind?"

"You forgot about the moaning of 'More, House. Harder,'" he teased. Cuddy smacked his chest as she got up to put her dish in the sink. He watched her walk across the room. He noted the way her belly was still a flat plane, but there was even more of a glow about her, even this early.

"Are you scared?" Cuddy asked him, looking out the window while she soaped a dish. He recognized it immediately. Often she asked him questions that she really wanted him to ask her.

"Are you?" he asked obediently.

Cuddy turned and leaned against the counter, considering. "A little," she confessed.

"Of what?" he probed.

Cuddy chuckled. "All of it. How to balance a baby on top of all the rest of our life. How Rachel will feel. What kind of mother I will be. You know me, everything. Sometimes I even worry about my age and my body and whether I might die during childbirth." She laughed a little, embarrassed, but he knew she wasn't kidding.

"I wouldn't let that happen," he assured her.

"You're God now?"

"I'm better," he replied. "A. I exist. And B. I'm singularly focused on you. Screw all the other scared, sad, and dying people."

Cuddy grinned at him. She turned back to the sink to wash dishes before lobbing the question back at him. "Are you scared?"

He shrugged. "Sure. We'd be idiots not to be," he answered. "But honestly, the only good things that ever happen to me are usually preceded by intense fear."

"You sound like a fortune cookie," she teased.

"Well, the fortune cookie doesn't tell you that the worst things that happen are also usually preceded by intense fear."

She laughed softly. House got up and limped over to her, his leg especially achy in the morning. He put his arms around her waist and sunk his head against her neck. "We can do anything, Cuddy. We might take the painful, roundabout, dysfunctional path to it, but we get it done." She nodded, and something about her stoicism made it click. "Wait, you're worried about _me_, aren't you?" He cut to the chase.

"No," she replied unconvincingly.

"What? That I'll leave or that I'll suck at it?" he asked, ignoring her answer. He felt mad… Well, hurt, which led to mad, and he was trying not to let it run free. He kept his arms around her, thinking that if they just stayed connected, they could traverse this treacherous ground.

Cuddy sighed heavily. "This is never what you wanted. It wasn't part of your life plan," she explained. "But it happened, and I don't want you to think you _should_ do it. I want you to _want_ to do it. And I can't make you want something you don't, and you can't either, no matter how much you love me…" She was rambling, getting worked up.

"Will you shut up for a minute?" he barked. He stepped back from her a little, propping his hands on the counter on either side of her. Cuddy turned and faced him with a defiant expression. If this was going to go bad, she preferred it to happen sooner than later. "What part of 'I want to have a baby with you,' did you not understand?" he asked.

"You never said that. You asked if I wanted to have a baby with you."

He gave her a disgusted look. "Yeah, that was pretty cryptic. All part of my plan to impregnate you and split. Or to raise my devil spawn. We haven't nailed down which you're afraid of yet," he sniped. He stood up straight. He was still retreating, just more slowly, trying to fight the urge he had to find a hole and set up camp.

"House, I just… I don't want to trap you in a life you didn't want," she said, trying to make him understand.

"Everyone is in a life they didn't want, Cuddy!" he yelled. "Everyone wants more great, less bad, but we have very little control of what we get. You wanted a baby years ago and didn't get it. I want a functioning leg. C'est la vie. I'm under no delusion that I can plan any of it."

"So what, this baby is like your infarction? Some random tragedy that beset you?" she accused.

"Christ, Cuddy. No." He ran a hand through his hair, limped back to a chair to sit down. "I'm saying that unlike you, I don't have a fucking blueprint for everything. You might try it sometime. It keeps you from obsessively analyzing everything until it isn't fun anymore."

Cuddy bit her lip. "It's fun for you?"

House looked at her softened face. He wanted it to be over, but he also wanted to punish her for never trusting him, never feeling secure about him. "It's fun because I'm doing it with you," he told her. "But it's probably not fun for you cuz you're doing it with me."

Cuddy sucked in her lips. He couldn't tell if she was pissed, going to cry, or just thoughtful. "What was the scariest moment of your life?" she asked.

He lobbed the question back at her reflexively. "What was yours?"

"You first."

He thought for a few seconds. "Flying back from Singapore. I thought for a while you really might have had Menningococcus and that I'd killed you out of laziness." She stared at him. "Yours?"

"Your leg surgery," she answered. He stared back.

Rachel padded in to get her sippy cup off the table, singing a gibberish song quietly. She drank with gusto and looked from one to the other while she audibly gulped.

"We've always been terrified of destroying each other," Cuddy said quietly.

"What's destroying?" Rachel asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

They didn't answer for a moment. Then House answered her without looking at her. "Ruining. Wrecking,"

"Aww, don't wreck House, Mama," Rachel laughed. "That's so silly."

Small smiles started and they all eventually laughed, Rachel most heartily of all. She padded back out of the room saying, "Silly family."

[H] [H] [H]

"Heard Cuddy's pregnant," Chase said as House entered the DDX room, tossing his stuff into a chair. Chase had lost the breaking-the-ice bet with the rest of the team and was forced to address the issue.

House stopped in his tracks and leaned in conspiratorially. "Really? Where'd you hear that? Is she keeping it? Did they say whose it was?"

Chase gave him an eyeroll and a glare. "Congratulations, House."

House grabbed a file from the table and dropped into a chair as the others murmured their congratulations too. "Thanks, thanks. I was pretty sure my guys could get the job done, but it's validating nonetheless."

"Are you excited?" Thirteen asked. "This is huge."

"I'll say it's huge. The tumor in his liver has gotta be four centimeters." He held a scan up to the ceiling light.

"Are you going to find out if it's a boy or a girl?" Taub asked, ignoring his deflection.

"Eventually," House answered with a sigh, closing the file. "Otherwise adolescence will be pretty awkward."

"House," Thirteen chided. "We're just happy for you. We _assume_ that _you're _happy for you. We wanted to… celebrate it."

"You know what you do when you assume," House replied, getting up and moving toward his office. "You annoy me." He let the door swing shut behind him, but promptly reopened it and stuck his head back in. "Oh, and I _assume_ you all are going to biopsy the tumor, get the patient on the transplant list, and prep him for chemo. Which probably annoys you all." House said with a sigh. "But I _assume_ we're all _assuming_ it's cancer." He paused, putting a finger to his lip. "Now do you suppose that annoys the cancer?"

The team got up and began leaving the room. Taub offered a small smile to House, which he sneered at. "Hey, I've gotta register for tiny pastel outfits online… You want me to order something for you? Got any color preferences? I know puppies are a classic but I think you could pull off ducks."

[H] [H] [H]

"It's open," House bellowed when he heard Wilson's polite knock on the door. He heard Wilson come inside and shouted that he was in the back bedroom. Wilson entered to see House surrounded by pieces of wood, screws, and basically a paper blanket of instructions.

"We have to do this before we can have fun," House proclaimed.

"_We _do?" Wilson asked.

"I'd make my team come do it, but they'd just start fighting over whether it was a crib, a dresser, a table, or lupus."

Wilson nodded and picked up the instructions, sitting on a rocking chair. "Happy to help."

"Uh, I thought I'd be the one to sit on my ass and tell you what to do." House explained.

"Well, you're already down there," Wilson replied dryly.

He stared reading off steps in the assembly process and helping House locate "slot C" and "tab 5." Slowly, the crib began taking shape. They were both standing now, taking turns holding pieces in place while the other tightened screws. House was working on one screw when he said "So I asked you to hang out because I figured we needed to check in."

"Oh yeah?" Wilson replied, trying to sound casual.

"I figure by now, you're starting to seriously grapple with your future role as Uncle Jimmy. Just wanted to make sure you felt prepared." Wilson chuckled.

"Been giving it a lot of thought, yeah."

"Yeah," House continued. "That's a lot of responsibility there, Wilson."

"It is," he agreed.

"I mean, you're gonna be Uncle Jimmy for the rest of this kid's life. His only Uncle Jimmy."

"That's true," Wilson admitted. House sighed and stood up and faced him across the length of the crib. Then Wilson offered, "I think I'm just worried about it because I hated my uncle." He held his breath to see how this would play. "So I really don't have a good firsthand uncle image to go on."

"Wait a minute," House smiled a big fake smile and did a switcheroo gesture. "You're talking about… I mean… Oh, you!" He shook his finger at Wilson. They continued working in silence for a few minutes.

"I don't think there's anything like it, House," Wilson told him, after some thought. "I don't think you can be ready. You just have to be… open to what it does to you." House nodded after they fit the last pieces together. They both looked down at the crib which seemed huge to hold a tiny baby. "Then again, parts of it suck. In a few months, this person is going to be in here who just eats, sleeps, poops, and cries," Wilson summarized.

"Oh I'm ready for _that_," House replied. "It'll be like living with you." Wilson saw him grab a teddy bear off the dresser and set it in the corner of the crib.

"There are people out there becoming uncles left and right who have absolutely no business becoming uncles," Wilson reminded him.

House nodded again. "I know. You'll do fine."

[H] [H] [H]

"You're a real shit, you know that?" Cuddy yelled when he came home one evening. He'd worked late and Cuddy was feeling tired and had fed and put Rachel to bed solo, giving her time to build up a furious froth before his arrival.

"I had a case," he protested defensively. "I told you I'd do my best to be there."

"Don't gimme that crap," she scolded. "You have a patient and you manage to prank Wilson and take naps and buy motorcycles. But you can't make it to an ultrasound in the very hospital in which you work?"

"The case had problems. The baby doesn't have any problems."

"Not that you would know. You weren't there."

"Cuddy, relax. Show me the print outs. I'll look at them now. Or better yet, I'll do an ultrasound on you myself tomorrow. It's no big deal."

"No big deal to you, maybe! It was to me," she told him. There was a pause. "It was a big deal to me. Why wasn't it to you?"

He thought about it. At least for once they were arguing about the right thing. It was a big deal to her and he had resisted going when he probably could have managed. "It's a blurry picture of a cluster of cells, Cuddy. It's not like I was seeing our baby in person or something. I just… I was preoccupied."

Cuddy glared. She wasn't buying it. "So we've covered not doing this, being scared of doing this, you resenting me not trusting you to do this… What are we missing here, House?"

"You're making too much of this."

"You're not making enough of it," she countered. "Doesn't the idea of seeing our baby move you at all?"

House sighed. "Yes. Of course. I just didn't want to sit there with an ultrasound tech watching our intimate moments just to go report them to a bunch of nurses in the cafeteria and gossip about what a terrible father I'm going to be. How I wasn't moved _enough_. I was busy and the idea of being evaluated for something I'm already evaluating myself about wasn't… appealing."

"Oh, boo-hoo, House. People judge us. Since when do you give a crap what anyone else thinks of you?"

"Since it's not just me anymore!" he yelled back. "Jesus, Cuddy, you can't relate to this because you're seemingly perfect and no one expects anything but more perfection. But I'm fully aware that bets are probably being made on how long this lasts, and aside from that bullshit, I'm fully aware that I have no idea how to do this well. I have no… idea," he repeated, running out of steam. "I can't think this out with a whiteboard list and a shitload of background knowledge. I can't even anticipate all that is going to come up over these years. So all I have to go on is not wanting to do it like my dad did it, which only leaves four million and seventy-two other options. And on top of it, I have to be 'moved' at these very particular moments and people are just waiting to see if I might just be unmovable."

"House." She took his hand. "You're trying to plan how to love. To prepare for it. It's not like that."

He looked at her and evenly replied, "What if I'm so fucked up I feel nothing?" He'd never shared this fear with her, or even really with himself. Yet it had nagged at him.

Cuddy surprised him with a wide smile. "I am absolutely positive that will not happen."

House ran a hand roughly over his face. "How are you that sure?"

Cuddy shrugged like he was worried about the weather, like this was no big deal. "I see in you what you don't see in yourself," she explained. "I see through your pretense to the feelings underneath. The very intense feelings underneath." She pulled him closer and looked up into his face.

He leaned down and kissed her lightly, then pressed his forehead to hers. "That's what those are?" he asked. "I thought it was indigestion."

Cuddy smiled. "See that joke? That's 'House' for 'Thank you for your unending patience and understanding, my most glorious girlfriend. I feel better now.'" She held his face, and kissed him back, deepening it.

"I always did prefer the Cliff's notes," he murmured against her mouth. He ran his hands over her body, still fascinated by the new hills and valleys. They stumbled clumsily to the couch and Cuddy pushed him down onto it. She straddled him, but the big bump of her belly was making it awkward. "This won't work," she groaned.

He kissed her neck and jaw anyway, sliding his hands under her shirt and into her pants. Cuddy gasped a little as she felt his fingers against her. "I think it's working just fine," he said into her neck. Cuddy moaned and braced her hands on his shoulders. She felt his stubble slide up her neck to her chin as she threw her head back. She felt his other hand skim over her side, caressing her breast and then sliding down to her round taut belly. She couldn't help laughing, like every time lately. "It's not a turn off?" she asked quietly.

"Hell no!" House exclaimed, his lips finding hers again. "I just pretend you grew a third very big, very firm breast. It's hot."

"You're so beyond demented," she told him.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." She felt his hand against her and began rocking against it. He watched her face, eyes closed, lips parted. He loved being able to do this to her, every time. He felt the curves of her body grinding against the flat plane of his as she moved. She was a tangible miracle. When she came it was almost like it surprised her. She gasped and her eyes slid open to meet his. She whispered his name before bending forward and pressing her face to his shoulder as he escorted her to and from a blissful release. He felt her breath on his neck turn into her hot mouth on his skin then, and she stood and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom. They made love, peppering it with jokes, repositioning, and laughter at the goofiness of it all. They rolled around and found new positions until they were both fully satisfied and lay spent, House spooning Cuddy and running his hand sleepily over her skin.

Cuddy felt the familiar flutter. She took his hand and placed it over the spot, low on the left side of her belly. He felt a tiny movement under his hand, then a constant outward pressure that held for a few seconds and released. "Do you wanna know?" Cuddy asked.

"Sure," House answered.

"It's a girl," Cuddy told him. He felt the flutter roll across her belly.

He blinked and pictured a tiny Cuddy. "I'm moved," he whispered. Cuddy smiled sleepily. They lay in the silence, their bodies pressed close. "I promise to make it to the next big pregnancy thing. I'll be early."

"Well, that's good," she replied. "Since the next big thing is the birth."

"I'll pencil it in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They should have known, really. Anything that starts with blood isn't usually destined to go easily.

House and Cuddy were finally relaxing after helping Rachel through a five-day stomach flu that took them to the hospital to get her IV fluids for dehydration. (The one advantage was that it gave them time to hammer away at the discussion of names. House was extra helpful with suggestions of "Lisa junior" and "Leg," - "It's short for 'Legory,'" he'd explained defensively. – but they had finally settled on Robyn and were both pleased with it.) This was the first night that week when Rachel got to sleep at a normal time and their evening was progressing normally, despite being within a week of the due date. So since everything was calming down, naturally, Cuddy had to drop onto the couch next to House and feel a scary gush. Her mind reeled and at first she just thought her water had broken. But when she stood, there was bright red blood.

"House," she gasped. He looked over absent-mindedly, then his eyes widened.

"Sit back down," he ordered. He grabbed his phone to call the hospital and tell them they were heading in while he handed Cuddy hers and told her to call Julia. The fifteen minutes it took Julia to get there seemed to take forever, despite their fear dissipating as the bleeding had seemed to slow. House helped her to the car and they sped to PPTH, calming each other with rationalizations about what could have caused the blood and reassurances that Robyn was moving. Light contractions had started, and the timing was right, so things still seemed like they might go fine.

In the hospital room, Dr. Anderson examined Cuddy and said he couldn't determine exactly where the bleeding was coming from, but that the baby's heart rate seemed fine and the bleeding was slow. They laid large pads under her and advised her not to move more than was necessary.

So they waited. Contractions came and went and Cuddy was tough as nails in her elegant way. House would watch her close her eyes and breathe through pain that he could visibly see as her stomach tensed into a hard ball. He felt helpless even after the hippie classes and countless articles Cuddy had forced him to endure. He'd stroke her hair, hold her hand, rub her shoulders, but there was nothing he could really do.

After twenty hours, Dr. Anderson suggested an epidural. Cuddy didn't want to do it; she'd read they could slow down labor. "I know, but this is your first birth, Lisa. Often you're nervous even if you don't realize it. The epidural might help you relax. Move things along." She eventually agreed and House jokingly asked if they could bring two.

Once she was numb, the whole thing became much more of a _Waiting for Godot_ kind of thing - lots of tired conversation while they sat around killing time between doctor checks. House watched both of their heart rates and monitored the blood loss each time someone came to check. They had hypothesized by then that the placenta was slowly separating from Cuddy. Anderson was right – There wasn't a lot of blood, but it was constant. House wasn't exactly calm.

Cuddy really didn't want a C-section, but she knew with her age, the odds were stacked against her. She'd read dozens of articles from different perspectives about the birthing process, and was trying to stay optimistic. Dr. Anderson was great and knew her preferences, so they took it one hour at a time. Her water had broken, though, and they were getting concerned about possible infection and didn't want to wait much longer. Eventually she was dilated to nine centimeters and felt like she could start pushing, despite the last centimeter. The nurses came in and Dr. Anderson tried to help the baby clear. House would watch the monitor and tell Cuddy when he saw a contraction appear on the screen. The he watched as Cuddy set her jaw, clenched her eyes shut, and filled her chest with air. He helped to hold back his assigned leg, the endless rotation of nurses across the bed in charge of the other. He watched her exert herself in a way he couldn't even imagine because he didn't have the parts to imagine exerting. They tried this for several rounds, but that Robyn was not budging. Talk of a C-section grew more serious and Dr. Anderson suggested moving labor into the OR, just so they could be efficient if it came to that. It was still calm, casual.

But suddenly Cuddy felt an intense pain, even through the epidural. The nurse suggested she roll to one side and Cuddy tried, but even rolling that bit was excruciating. Dr. Anderson was paged and came in to look at the monitors. Before House or Cuddy could even get a look at anything, they were wheeling Cuddy out of the room and gathering a string of people behind them. The doctor was shouting for people to get out of the hallway as they made their way to an OR. It all happened so fast, Cuddy didn't even have time to get worked up as she talked to the doctor, asking questions rather casually. House, however, limped behind them as fast as he could and heard enough to know she was getting surgery as fast as possible. He grabbed his phone and even though he had no idea what time it even was he called Chase. "Get your ass into the OR suite and scrub in," he barked.

Chase showed up with the whole team, who had insisted on coming too. "House, this isn't your show!" Anderson had barked up at the observation window when he saw them scrubbing in.

"The hell it isn't," House answered. "They're just here to watch, unless you guys screw something up." He looked over at Cuddy and she was already out, the anesthesia mask over her mouth. "What the hell? Why is she under general?"

"There's no time, House." And suddenly he realized it wasn't Cuddy they were most worried about. And suddenly he felt sick.

He watched them, in the blink of an eye, slicing into Cuddy's belly. And his brain fried as he watched a tiny, listless body ushered over to another table and being surrounded by a whole pediatric team, while he simultaneously watch blood coming out of Cuddy as they removed tissue from the hole in her body. House was physically motionless, but internally whirling. He watched them suctioning Cuddy and doing a zillion things to Robyn. He met Chase's eyes through the glass and motioned for him to get in there. Chase got closer to Cuddy and nodded up at House that they weren't doing anything he wouldn't be doing. Thirteen was already trying to squeeze into the peds unit of thirty crammed into a sixteen square foot area. There was yelling and handing off of instruments and cries for more space. And there was a ridiculous amount of blood. And all House could do was whisper "Cry, dammit," at the window.

Then Cuddy flatlined.

House would never remember catapulting down the stairs and into the OR, just as Chase would never remember somehow elbowing his way in with paddles. The whole thing would be a fifteen-second lapse in memory, but seem like a key piece of life that was inaccessible to them. But there House was yelling at colleagues to suction, and hang blood, taking paddles from Chase so he could move to cleaning and suturing as if they had rehearsed this crazy dance.

"Don't you dare do this, Cuddy," he hissed at her as he shocked her for the second time. "Thirteen, why is she not crying?" he yelled.

"The placenta came off," Anderson was explaining to no one in particular. "She was without oxygen…"

"We're clearing her throat and lungs, House. It's not over!" Thirteen yelled back, focusing on the practicalities.

Third shock and he had a rhythm. And then the most perfect round scream emerged from the other corner of the room. And House almost passed out. He reeled back, bent at the waist and had his head between his knees. Taub shoved a stool over to him and he sat, peppering the anesthesiologist and Chase with questions, then spinning on the stool to shout at the pediatricians.

"She's fine, House," Anderson assured him from Cuddy's bed. "We got it. She's getting blood. She's stable."

His breath was heaving and he watched Cuddy's chest rising and falling and tried to grab hold of reality again. And then a beaming Thirteen walked over to him with _reality_ wrapped in a pink and blue blanket, placing her in his arms. She looked up at him with crossed eyes and a tiny bow of a pink mouth. Taub clapped him on the back. She made an instinctive sucking motion with her mouth. "You," House said to her.

"Dumbass," Foreman teased him. "You're trying to wing it. You should have had a deflecting joke already prepared for this moment." House said nothing.

"I've got one," Chase called over. "I want a raise, House," he teased still sewing Cuddy shut.

But he wasn't listening. He wasn't even there. He was falling in love.

[H] [H] [H]

House saw Cuddy's lids begin to flutter open. He was standing bedside in recovery, alternating between watching her and watching Robyn as the nurses measured, cleaned, and generally poked around on her. He'd have to get used to this split-attention feeling, he supposed.

"Hey," he said quietly. Cuddy was confused, weak, groggy. When he saw her eyes finally hold his gaze and focus, he knew she was coming out of it.

Cuddy tried to say "hey" back, but her throat was dry and it came out as a croak. House reached for water for her, and when he turned back she looked panic-stricken. She was combing the room with her eyes, still so confused. Her mind was moving so slowly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Everything's okay," he told her, handing her a cup of water. "She's right here, with the nurses." He saw her eyes well up and he wanted to protect her from the million horrible thoughts that tumbled through her mind before she let them go. But he knew she had to feel them, even briefly, to appreciate the greatness of right now.

House ran a hand over her forehead, smoothing a curl out of her face, and the nurse brought Robyn to Cuddy, who took her both greedily and clumsily due to her half-sedated state. The infant nestled in, knowing her mother immediately, and began rooting for Cuddy's breast. House watched Cuddy just know what to do. She always just knew what to do. And soon Robyn was nursing and Cuddy was sitting up straighter and it was like she had always been the mother of a 40-minute old baby.

She looked up at House and beamed.

"I have a new scariest moment of my life," he teased. Cuddy's hand went to the burns on her chest left by the paddles. Her wide smile faded a little and she gave him a sympathetic, pouty grin.

"Thank you," she told him.

House made a face like that was a ridiculous thing to say. "For what?"

"I'm guessing you made a spectacle of yourself and saved my life."

"Oh, yeah, that. You're welcome. Chase and the twenty other doctors were pretty impressed too." He winked at her. Then he clenched his teeth a little, fighting any loss of composure. "You were right. I felt something." He reached out and gently grasped Robyn's bare foot, which had wormed out of her swaddle. Cuddy found his hand there and closed around it. "It's crazy. She's one of a billion, but she's amazing."

"Like you," Cuddy told him.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, until Dr. Anderson came in to check on her. Cuddy thanked him and updated him on how she was feeling. He updated her on what had happened. It was typical hospital small talk. House watched Cuddy speak, scratch her eyebrow, smile, furrow her brow… He watched it all like it was the first time he was seeing her.

When the doctor left, Cuddy turned to House. "I should call my mom, Julia…" she told him. He found her phone for her and told her that they already knew she was okay, but would want to talk to her.

Cuddy dialed and was waiting for the connection when House laid his hand on her thigh. "Thank you," he told her.

"For what?" she asked, smiling.

"For doing this with me."

A tear rolled down Cuddy's cheek. "Oh, yeah, that." She beamed at him again. "You're welcome."

[H] [H] [H]

House and Cuddy enjoyed several weeks of being home and revolving their lives around the kids. They were tired and crabby and a little bored, of course, but for the most part it was a pleasant tedium of naps, meals, and hanging out. But work was calling and as they interviewed nanny after nanny with disapproval, Cuddy started getting worried about the approaching return to work. She'd already been doing more and more from home, but she had to physically go in soon, as did House, and they weren't happy with the childcare options. Well, actually, House wasn't happy. He was being picky as hell, finding something wrong with each applicant. She sounded too bossy, too confident, too wimpy, too insecure. She smelled funny or wore impractical shoes.

This resulted in Robyn being toted to PPTH for a few days. Cuddy was adamant that since House was being the roadblock, this was his problem. She was not going to risk her professional image by turning the Dean of Medicine's office into a nursery. So when the team walked in one day they found a _Pack 'n' Play_ set up, along with several bins of random squishy rattle toys, and a bottle-making/cleaning station at the coffee counter. They exchanged glances and discussed in hushed voices what was going on, when House walked in with a sleeping infant strapped to his chest. He tossed files at them and characteristically ignored the elephant in the room, though this was the first they'd seen of Robyn, save Chase who'd had the balls to actually stop by and visit.

"Four fainting spells in as many days, skin discoloration around the joints, hair loss, and migraine headaches. Go." He was scrawling on the white board as he spoke. The team stared at him in silence, so House gave an exasperated groan. "Yes, I know it can be threatening to be in the presence of a human being who has infinitely more potential than any of you, what with the joining of Cuddy's and my unbelievably brilliant and attractive genes, but just _try._" He gestured down at Robyn with a nod of his head. "She can't talk yet so she's useless to me."

They began tossing out ideas and tearing them down for different reasons before coming to consensus on the most logical thread to pursue. They rose to go start their poking and prodding. "So what's with the Mr. Mom thing?" Foreman asked, gesturing at the baby paraphernalia.

"It's temporary," House said, getting a cup of coffee. "Having trouble settling on a nanny," he told them. "I mean I want her hot enough that Cuddy might actually be into her, but not so hot that she's clearly a stripper by night."

"Cuddy's down with the threesome thing this soon after childbirth, eh? Cool." Thirteen teased, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

House furrowed his brow at her, suspicious. "Don't get your hopes up, my little equal-opportunity ho. I just get to watch while folding tiny clothes."

Thirteen couldn't resist and came over to peek into the carrier at the sleeping baby. "Surprisingly, it suits you, House. You look good, Daddy-o."

House gave her a smirk."Cute, but we're going with 'Godfather.' Feel free to use it too."

They left the room, but each snuck a peek as they shuffled by the glass walls to the elevator. None of them spoke of the way House kissed the top of her head briefly as he walked back into his office, rereading the file.

[H] [H] [H]

House came home late due to a complicated case and Cuddy practically thrust Robyn into his arms, whipped after an evening alone with the kids. He held her and Cuddy started picking up the disaster of the living room, but eventually surrendered to squalor and flopped onto the couch. House had gone into the kitchen to get a bottle and now sat on the chair giving it to Robyn.

"I have a couple questions for you," he said.

"Do they require using my brain?" Cuddy groaned.

"I could mix in a couple softballs if that helps," he said.

"Let 'er rip," she said, throwing an arm across her eyes.

House swallowed and looked down at Robyn for a second. "I think I should adopt Rachel," he told her. Cuddy lay motionless for a moment, digesting this bombshell. Then she lifted her arm and turned to look at him.

"You do?"

House tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing. "Nothing will change," he explained. "It will just officialize it all. But when she's older… You know she's already gonna work through the shit that comes with being adopted and having a sibling that isn't. I thought, you know, I should provide some counter-evidence to her inevitable teenage angst." Cuddy nodded, still thinking. "That, and I love her," he added. Cuddy sat up, leaning forward on her knees.

"Okay," she said, matter-of-factly. House nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both deep in thought. He moved Robyn to his shoulder to burp her, then inhaled to ask his next question, but Cuddy interrupted him abruptly with a rushed "Doyouwannagetmarried?"

House smirked at her outburst. He reached in his pocket and tossed something at her. She caught the black velvet box in her lap. "Why you gotta steal my thunder, Cuddy?" he asked.

Cuddy looked at him, shocked. Then she opened the box to find a beautiful-bordering-on-ostentatious engagement ring inside. "Seriously?" she asked him.

"Nah. I figured after a late night with two small children you'd love good prank." He winked at her.

"I can't decide if this proposal is lame or awesome," she said, slipping the ring on her finger.

"Story of our story," he replied.

She held her hand out flamboyantly. "Looks good with a spit-up covered bathrobe and unwashed hair, eh?"

"You're beautiful."

She beamed at him. "What's with all the officializing?" she teased.

"Just wanna make an honest woman of you," he joked. Then he shrugged. "I dunno. It's not just about us anymore. I don't want the kids confused, or teased, or… You know, nothing will change, but it will all be more legit in the eyes of others." Cuddy nodded, smiling at his uncharacteristic nod to conformity. He met her eyes. "That, and I love you." They looked at each other happily for a few minutes, then Robyn released an audible dump.

"I timed it that way. Breaks all the romantic tension," he told Cuddy. He stood and leaned down to kiss her before taking Robyn to her room to change the sleepy newborn's diaper and put her to bed. Cuddy lay back on the couch and admired her left hand in the dim light, moving it this way and that. She heard House on the baby monitor, talking to Robyn about how bad she smelled and how he was gonna clean her up. Then she heard him singing softly. She grabbed the monitor and turned on the screen to spy. She saw House standing there, swaying awkwardly with no cane. Robyn's head lay on his shoulder and his large hand covered her entire back. His lips were against the back of her head, his eyes were wide, thoughtful, staring into space. Robyn yawned and squeaked a little and Cuddy saw House smile. And that's when she knew… He loved her just as crazily.

[H] [H] [H]

Eighteen years passed in a stream of mundane, happy daily life dotted with dramas big and small. House sat in a cushioned folding auditorium seat between Cuddy and Rachel. He watched a beautiful and poised young woman, one of the women he'd die for, walk to a podium to give a valedictorian speech to her high school graduating class. He hated these kinds of events. He hated the ceremony. He hated the speeches. But he adored her, so it was tolerable.

"These speeches are supposed to offer some kind of words of wisdom," Robyn began, a sarcastic edge to her delivery. "Some set of pithy statements we can write in yearbooks or inspirational post-its we stick to our mirrors. At least for girls. I don't know what guys do with these kinds of things." The audience laughed a little and House smiled. "When I sat to write this though, I thought, 'I'm eighteen years old and am graduating high school. Big deal,'" she said, carrying on with her jaded tenor. "But I thought about it more and I realized that what I know now, believe now, do now… It _is_ significant in the sense that I'm not really going to change all that much. No one does." Cuddy stole a glance at House who was listening with rapt attention. "Our contexts change. High school becomes college becomes the career world. Being the child in a family becomes being a member of a family of friends becomes starting your own family. Birth becomes growth becomes aging becomes death. And through it all we are who we are." This was a pretty existential valedictorian speech and House looked around a little. People were not fidgeting or flipping through the program. They were listening to her… to an eighteen-year-old girl who was making them think. "And what matters, really, is going through with it all."

I know that, like every graduate here, I am who I am because of my parents. I have my father's rationality and my mother's intuition. My dad's skepticism and my mom's openness. His rebellious side and her social graces. But what they taught me most, together, through how they've lived their lives, is that this is what we've got. This is the life we have, made up of each day and the too few days after that. And that doesn't mean we can cherish every moment or live like we're dying or any of that crap. Can I say crap in this speech?" she asked, prompting more laughter.

"It means we need to persevere. Good or bad, we have to keep going. What we do - right or wrong, wise or foolish - becomes who we are, what our life is. It's all important because none of it is really all that important. It's just each of us, being eternally us in an ever-changing context. Everyone feels this pressure to change and be better than who we are. But I'd like to suggest that if we just accept who we are and persevere… Well, we get credit for that."

So I know I won't change and I'm not going to waste my time trying not to think like my dad or feel like my mom. And I know life _will_ change and I'm not going to waste my time trying to hold onto things that are leaving or rushing to things that lay in the distance. I'm just going to try to persevere, loving and hating my life in different moments. And as condescending as it might be for a teenager to offer an auditorium of parents and grandparents advice, that's what they want me to do, so here it is. I suggest you all do the same. Let go, and just hold on."

There was a pause when she returned to her seat, as her message washed over the crowd. People came in expecting bullshit about chasing dreams and never forgetting friends, and instead got a considered philosophy on life. House noted that Robyn looked unconcerned with the result of her speech, sitting down on stage, proud and committed to all she'd said. Rachel's was the first clap to ring out, followed by a wave of applause. The people who rose first, to offer her a standing ovation, were not the teenagers. They probably had understood very little of the reality Robyn had described. The adults rose, some of them brushing tears from their eyes. The rough, tired, beaten-down masses rose and smiled at spouses and marveled at the unexpected acknowledgement of their daily effort to believe the good they had wouldn't escape them or that the good they wanted might be around the bend, if they just kept going.


End file.
